


One more time

by azira-yeet (Judeyjude)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crowley-centric (Good Omens), Ficlet, Intrusive Thoughts, OCD Crowley, a character study on Crowley obsessing, briefly mentioned joint pain/physical disability, end of episode 2: The Book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 09:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19391302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judeyjude/pseuds/azira-yeet
Summary: Crowley isn't obsessing...he's just thinking. Loudly. It's all very reasonable, including checking his plants eight times for leaf spots.





	One more time

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a post about canon OCD!Crowley on tumblr and couldn't resist writing a ficlet about it

Crowley wonders how Aziraphale is doing. What is he doing? It was weird how absent-minded he was walking back to his bookshop with that woman-who-hit-him’s book. And that’s saying something considering how absent-minded Aziraphale usually is. Should he give the angel a call? No, Crowley has no excuse to give. He hasn’t even spoken with his ‘agents’ about finding the kid. Then again, he can pretend he did and act as if he's calling to ask Aziraphale if he’s contacted his ‘agents’ yet even though it’s nighttime and only been three hours since they last saw each other. **  
**

Aziraphale’s fine. Crowley’s just being ridiculous. Except, things are not fine because the world is bloody ending and their lives have been revolved around the wrong fucking kid for eleven years and they have no idea where the real antichrist is and Aziraphale probably will want to see this through the end instead of running off if things go wrong, and, and, and…

Crowley surges off his chair and snatches his spray bottle off the table. He wobbles his first steps, but his plants aren’t far away. He’s already dealt with the leaf-spot plant. There’s no legitimate reason to keep checking up on his other plants. He never misses a detail. But, you can never be too careful. He’s not going to have the most luxurious plants in the world if he just sits around, will he? Checking them seven times in the last two hours might be a bit excessive but who cares? He circles each pot lazily, not putting much effort this go around. His plants quake nonetheless.

When he returns to his chair, his spray bottle never spritzed and plants perfect as the last seven times, he breathes easier. His legs are hating him for the constant getting up and sitting down and getting up and sitting down. He really should use that cane Aziraphale got him. He should stop getting up in the first place. If he was at Aziraphale’s he wouldn’t have to get up to check his plants or worry over the angel’s safety…

No, Crowley was going to stay here. He’s fine. Aziraphale is fine if a bit ditzy. His plants are fine. His Bentley is fine. Is his Bentley fine? Of course it is, he’d never let his beloved sustain an injury. Although, he was a bit preoccupied eye-contact bantering with Aziraphale over the woman-who-hit-him to properly look at all the damage done to his car. He fixed the light and pulled out the dent. His Bentley should be fine. Even if there’s something wrong, it would be a tiny scratch that he could miracle away with a thought tomorrow.

Crowley grimaces at the thought of a scratch staying on his Bentley all through the night and into the next morning. If he hadn’t exacerbated his joint pain by checking his plants, he’d go take a look at his car. The image of the woman crashing into the Bentley flashed in his mind except much bloodier and fatal beyond Angelic or Demonic miracle intervention. Crowley pinches the skin between his eyes and pictures shoving down that horrible imagine into the garbage disposal and tearing it to shreds.

It’s mind-tingingly satisfying until his brain keeps barfing up the same image and he has to put an effort into non-stop imagining a mental garbage disposal. _Fuuuuck._ Maybe he should call angel. Aziraphale can block out all of Crowley’s thoughts with the most inane rambles. Heaven is watching Aziraphale closer than usual, however, and that could be what had him so scatterbrained when he said “tickety-boo”.

Tickety-boo. He didn’t even know Aziraphale could top saying the word “bebop”, let alone on the same day. What if he thought tickety-boo and bebop over and over and over until all his mangled thoughts and grotesque images faded away? Honestly, tickety-boo on repeat might drive him even more insane.

Not that it’d make a difference. He’s insane and been so for centuries. Right from the start, really, with all his thoughts and questions.

“What’s the point in making an insane Angel?” Crowley mumbles. He rolls his head back to look up and asks, “Was that it? I was your first test and now you’re testing the humans?” 

Crowley scoffs.

He’d failed of course. An Angel too filthy to be anything but a demon. His mind just jumps to the worst images and thoughts without even conscious trying _—_ _how brilliant!_ He knows in his heart that it’s his fault that he Fell but he resents God. Resents the humans who will undoubtedly follow his path into doom.

Crowley eyes the telephone. No. He looks to the spray bottle beside it. Checking his plants one more time can’t do any harm, really. Just once more. He’ll even use his cane this time. Aziraphale would be proud. (If Aziraphale is still alive.) (Of course he’s still fucking alive, _shut up_.) (But what if…)

Crowley sighs and pushes himself up.

**Author's Note:**

> you can see the og post analyzing his OCD in canon [here](https://azira-yeet.tumblr.com/post/185903239756/ocdcrowley) on tumblr
> 
> if you want to see good omen memes, meta, and fluff bits like this you can follow me @ [azira-yeet](https://azira-yeet.tumblr.com/)  
> ! : )


End file.
